Dear Anxiety, Chill The Eff Out

August 3, 2017

Dear Anxiety,

We need to talk, again. We’ve had this conversation before; you need to chill the eff out. I’m writing you this letter to remind myself that you are not a part of me, you are simply a confused, weak and insecure voice inside my head, and I am the observer of your insanity. I am the quiet, confident, calmness that exists when I remember that all those anxious thoughts are not me.

While you are rambling on and on about all the worst case scenarios that could happen in the future or worrying about if you embarrassed yourself in a conversation you had 2 weeks ago, I am out here actually experiencing the magnificence of the fact that I even exist.

Have you even noticed the fact that we are literally standing on a giant planet that rotates in 24 hour cycles, while simultaneously circling around a ginormous ball of fire, that somehow manages to stay at the absolute perfect distance from said ball of fire to provide an environment that allows me to exist? I don’t know about you, but when I think of it that way your concerns seem so silly to me.

And yet, you persist. There are times when I am focused on being so present in my life that your voice quiets, and I barely hear you make a sound. But when I lose sight of the moment and get caught up in my head your voice becomes blaring. I shut down. I’m good at hiding it, but I shut down. When I’m stuck inside my head and a situation is slightly overwhelming, I freeze up. I don’t know where to even start. You tell me that the only possible solution would be to curl up in a ball in my bed. There are times I’ve taken that option, let’s be honest though, you’re being super dramatic. Anxiety, you need to chill the eff out.

I’ve grown to understand you more, what used to draw me to hide away in my bed doesn’t phase me anymore. You’ve noticed haven’t you? You are constantly returning with new ways to distract me from the present, taunting me with reasons to believe I’m not good enough, haven’t accomplished enough, don’t have enough. I hate to break it to you but I have so much to be grateful for, I’ve grown to be so appreciative of my life exactly the way it is that when I hear you rambling you sound silly to me. I’ve done enough personal growth to know that you are simply a function of my brain designed to keep me small and safe. I love you, I know you will most likely always be a part of me, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. Can we agree to disagree? You must be exhausted, it’s time to chill the eff out and let me live.